


You Make Me Smile (Please Stay For Awhile)

by alexenglish



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Communication, Cooking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deaf Character, Deaf Kira Yukimura, Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hair Braiding, M/M, Moving In Together, quoiromantic Scott McCall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 05:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4595034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexenglish/pseuds/alexenglish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott falls for Kira effortlessly, then Stiles and Allison do too.</p><p>--</p><p>“Oh wow,” he says, before fumbling through his brain for the appropriate response, thinking about coincidence, and maybe something a little more than coincidence. Not that Scott’s entertaining ideas of fate, but he’s a romantic at heart and being in the right place at the right time sometimes feels cosmic.</p><p><i>My grandparents are deaf</i>, he signs. His fingers feel thick, and clumsy. It’s been a long time since he’s signed. He has a moment of panic that he didn’t actually say anything, because she blinks at him, mouth going slack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Make Me Smile (Please Stay For Awhile)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the polyamorous wolf exchange. I saw the "deafness" prompt, and honestly couldn't help myself. This is my first fic with a deaf character, and I'm super nervous about it. My grandparents are deaf, so all the information about deafness and the deaf community come from my interactions with them. The communication in ASL is translated like spoken English. ASL has its own grammar structure and is traditionally different from what I've written here.
> 
> Also, Scott is quoiromantic in this, which is a romantic orientation wherein distinguishing between platonic and romantic feelings is extremely difficult, or impossible. 
> 
> This got so, so fluffy. 
> 
> Title from Colbie Caillat's [Bubbly](https://youtu.be/AWGqoCNbsvM)
> 
> MANY THANKS to Kat (katarama) for the beta. You are the absolute best.

Scott regrets waiting until just before the semester begins to move into the new apartment with Stiles and Allison. It’s not their fault; Stiles and Scott’s jobs had to give them same-day time off, they had to arrange the U-Haul and convince Allison’s dad to let them borrow the truck for miscellaneous hauling. That doesn’t change the face that it’s scorching hot, though. Scott feels like an ant under a microscope, with added heavy lifting of boxes. There haven’t been any mishaps so far, but the day isn’t over, and there’s still potential for Stiles to injure himself or Scott while getting the last of it inside. 

They’re almost done, but they could have been done 3 hours ago if they had woken up when Allison jostled them before work. The second she was out the door, Stiles rolled over on top of him and hung on for dear life, legs anchoring Scott down. Naturally, Scott fell back asleep, and neither of them woke up until Scott’s ‘oh shit, you’re late’ alarm went off. 

In essence, it’s their fault that it’s the hottest part of the day, and they’ve still got at least two more trips to make between the apartment and the truck. They already decided to go back to the old apartment and clean tomorrow; there’s only so much responsibility and work Stiles can deal with in a day, apparently. Not that Scott is complaining, because he’s exhausted. 

There’s a girl with long black hair standing outside of the U-Haul truck when Scott comes down for more boxes. Even though he’s sweaty and sore, Scott is still intent on making a good impression on potential neighbors, so does his best to wipe his face before jogging up to her.

“Hey,” he says, as he approaches. She doesn’t turn to acknowledge him, just lingers, eyeing the back of the truck. She’s tiny, and all that’s left is the heavier boxes and miscellaneous furniture, so Scott doesn’t think she’s going to steal anything, but you can never be too careful with college students. Scott does have a kick ass foosball table. “Hey! Hey, hello?”

She still doesn’t react, so he touches her shoulder, cautiously. She whips around, eyes widening at him, stepping back. Scott mirrors her, putting a foot of space between them, just to be polite. She’s gorgeous, almond eyes dark, pretty little mouth, and high cheek bones. Scott feels his throat go dry, pulse jumping when their eyes meet. 

“Hey!” he says, again, trying not to be too overbearing about the whole thing. She blinks at him rapidly, eyes dropping to his lips. “Hey, do you live around here?” 

She blinks at him again, mouth pulling sideways as she nods her head. 

“Okay, hey!” he says, tongue thick in his mouth, feeling unsure. He doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong, but it feels like he’s doing something wrong. She blinks again, shakes her head, teeth digging into her bottom lip. She motions to her ear with her index finger, drags it towards her mouth. Then, repeats the motion. Then, taps her ear. 

It takes Scott’s brain a minute to recognize that it’s a sign, _sign language_. 

“Oh wow,” he says, before fumbling through his brain for the appropriate response, thinking about coincidence, and maybe something a little _more_ than coincidence. Not that Scott’s entertaining ideas of fate, but he’s a romantic at heart, and being in the right place at the right time sometimes feels _cosmic_.

 _My grandparents are deaf_ , he signs. His fingers feel thick, and clumsy. It’s been a long time since he’s signed. He has a moment of panic that he didn’t actually say anything, because she blinks at him, mouth going slack.

 _A - S - L_ , he fingerspells, just in case.

When she grins, her whole face lights up. Scott’s heart jumps up in his throat, enthralled at the sight of it. 

_You know sign language?_ she asks, hands flying. Scott nods, asks her to slow down. _Sorry, there aren’t a lot of people who know ASL._

 _I’m Scott_ , he says, then signs his name sign, a quick ‘S’ and ‘M’ at chest height. _What’s your name?_

She fingerspells, _K - I - R- A_ , at him, before making a ‘K’ and circling her face. When made with an open hand, the sign means ‘pretty’; it’s fitting. So fitting, especially when she looks up at him, smile still on her lips. 

“Kira,” he says, out loud, just to feel the weight of it. She bites her lip, and ducks her head, before her eyes return to his face. 

_We just moved into 2215_ , Scott signs, pointing at the apartment building across from them. Stiles is coming down the stairs, looking as sweaty and dishevelled as Scott feels, pink in the cheeks. He’s dragging the dolly behind him, eyebrows jumping when he sees Scott standing with Kira.

 _Are you in the area?_ He asks, as Stiles comes up beside them. She nods, eyes darting to Stiles and back to Scott as Stiles slings an arm around Scott’s shoulders. 

“Who’s this?” he asks, leaning on Scott. Scott takes his weight easily, but leaves his hands free so he can talk to Kira. 

“Kira,” Scott says, grinning. “She lives in the area.”

 _This is S - T - I - L - E - S,_ Scott tells Kira, quickly. Stiles makes an interested noise in his throat. 

“Is she deaf?” Stiles asks. 

“Something like that,” Scott says, quickly asking Kira if she can read lips. She laughs, a high noise in her throat that Scott really likes the sound of, and nods. 

Scott doesn’t really know what’s rude and what’s polite in this situation, but he asks her if she wants him to sign the conversation anyway, translate for her. There’s another beat before she shrugs, and nods. He smiles at her.

“What are you saying?” Stiles asks, nosy. “Oh wait --”

 _I know a little_ , Stiles signs, hands slow, frowning in concentration. Kira smiles at him indulgently, shooting him a thumbs up when he adds, as an after thought, _sign language_.

“Looks like you need some practice,” Scott says, signing and talking. It’s easier than Scott expects, muscles falling into the memory of it quicker than he thought they would. 

_I’m sure he’ll get it_ , Kira signs in response. When Scott says it out loud, Stiles grins at her, pleased. 

“Probably,” Scott responds, “He’s clever. Maybe I’ll help him practice. It’s always nice to have friends in the neighborhood.” 

Kira grins, and nods her head, signing _yes_ at him enthusiastically. She bites her lip, making a disappointed face. _I should let you guys unload. I’m holding you up_. 

“We don’t mind,” Stiles says, earnestly, signing along slowly. 

_We’re having a kick back this weekend_ , Scott signs, _You should drop by_. 

When Kira nods eagerly, Scott’s oddly relieved. He passes her his phone, asking for her number. There’s a small smile on her face as she puts it into his phone, in all caps, “KIRA YUKIMURA”. 

_You can text me whenever_ , she tells him when she hands his phone back. He raises a finger, tells her to wait, already typing up a text message.

To: KIRA YUKIMURA

_hey :)_

Kira’s pocket buzzes, smile on her face as she reads the screen. 

_Thanks_ , she signs, a quick gesture from her chin outwards with four fingers. 

Scott responds, _you’re welcome_ , grin splitting his face as she turns to leave, fingers tracing her phone as she walks away. 

“Wow,” Stiles says, pressing his forehead to Scott’s. He’s slick with sweat and smells strongly of _Stiles_ and dirtiness and musk. “What’s that look on your face? You look smitten.”

“I’m not smitten,” Scott denies, pushing Stiles off of him, but he’s laughing, giddy for no reason at all. He might be a little smitten. Stiles gives him a knowing look. 

“I haven’t seen that look on your face since Allison and I’s first date,” he says, nudging Scott’s cheek with his nose. Scott grins, and bites into his bottom lip, lets Stiles press a kiss to his cheek before he goes into the U-Haul to drag out boxes. 

“My boyfriend and my girlfriend dating,” Scott reminds him, coming up the ramp behind him. “Why wouldn’t I be happy?”

“You were rightfully happy, you were just a giant dork about it.”

“I absolutely was not,” Scott says, affronted. 

“Totally were,” Stiles sniffs. “You got all sentimental about it, and insisted we all _make love_ to commemorate it. Such a sap.”

“You love it,” Scott says confidently. It’s been almost 5 years of official dating, and who-knows-how-long of being in love. Not much has changed over the course of their relationship. Sometimes, other people slip in and out, but Scott and Stiles are permanent. Both of them are hoping Allison will be permanent, too. 

“How do you think this is going to go?” Scott asks as he drags some of the boxes from the U-Haul up to entrance of the truck so Stiles can pile them on the dolly. “With Allison?”

“It’ll be fine,” Stiles says, shrugging. His shirt is clinging to his back and chest, sweat beading his hairline. Scott wants to lick him all over, and is startled by the thought, even though it absolutely shouldn’t be a surprise. 

Sometimes, he’s still waiting for the attraction towards Stiles to wane, for them to naturally stop wanting each other. People always say it will happen, that young love doesn’t last, but Scott doesn’t know how to be without Stiles, can’t imagine life without Stiles.

Recently, it’s gotten that way with Allison, too. He wakes up in the morning to her hair spread over the pillows, creases on her skin. She’s gorgeous in the morning light, and Scott feels warm with how much affection he has for her. 

When he rolls over, he sees Stiles in a similar state: swathed in light, mouth parted in his sleep. It’s amazing, to love them both, and be loved in return. 

“Yeah, I think so too,” Scott says, grinning at Stiles.

“As long as she doesn’t make me braid her hair again,” Stiles gripes, stacking boxes. Scott takes a break to watch the muscles under his shirt, the way his arms bulge when he lifts. “That was a disaster.”

“YouTube, dude,” Scott says, pushing another stack of boxes at him with his boot. “French braid tutorial videos for days.”

“Who has that kind of time?”

“I know for a fact you do,” Scott says, jumping off the truck and grabbing the left over boxes that don’t fit on the dolly. Stiles follows, dragging his stack behind them. “All you do is watch League Of Legends tournaments when you’re not doing school work.”

“False accusation,” Stiles pouts. “I play, too.”

 

 

They get the truck unloaded and get the couch and TV hooked up before Allison gets home, boxes piled all around them. There’s still bookshelves to put together, dishes to wash, food to put away, but by the time she comes through the door with take out, they’re both exhausted, slumped together on the floor with their shirts off.

“You could have taken a shower,” she says, standing over them with Chinese and with disapproval written all over her face. Stiles beams up at her and grabs the food, unloading the bags quickly.

“We wanted to wait for you,” Stiles lies. They definitely didn’t have that discussion. The shower in the master bedroom is barely big enough to fit two people comfortably. Three would be an absolute nightmare.

Allison snorts at him, dismissive. 

“I am absolutely not trying to squeeze into that shower with you two water hogs,” she says, stripping her shirt and plopping down in front of them, grabbing up the containers. Scott watches as they divvy it up, containers and sauces and egg rolls and crab rangoons. Eventually, his food lands in front of him with a fork and a napkin. 

“I think Kira would be impressed if you finally learned how to use chopsticks,” Stiles says, slurping up his noodles. He can barely manage chopsticks, just shovels his food in his mouth with them pressed together, but he acts like he’s superior because he refuses to use a fork. 

“Kira?” Allison asks, eyebrows jumping up. Stiles smirks at her, tapping their knees together. 

“She lives in these apartments. Scott met her today. She’s deaf, so they bonded.”

“I can communicate with her,” Scott says, jabbing the air with his fork. “Don’t be a dick.”

“ _What_? How am I being a dick? Actually, I think it’s great. I picked up, like, every fourth word, I think I could talk to her if she signed slower. Which is _cool_.” 

“Wait, you both know sign language?” Allison asks, confused. Scott blinks at her, wondering if he didn’t tell her about his grandparents. 

“My grandparents are deaf,” Scott says. “My dad’s parents.” 

“Well, you told me that, but you didn’t tell me you could sign,” she says, eating slower. “Your _abuela_ speaks Spanish, but you don’t know it. Do you?”

“He’s not secretly a language savant, don’t worry,” Stiles says, smirking at her. 

“My dad taught me sign language when I was really young,” Scott says, feeling weird about the whole thing. Allison doesn’t exactly sound accusatory, but he can feel the barest bit of tension, as if she’s uncomfortable. “I learned some Spanish, but I’m not fluent. I’m actually surprised that I remembered enough sign language to talk to her today, it’s been a long time.”

Since he’s talked to his grandparents, or seen them. Logically, he knows that he could Skype them, but it’s been so long that he’d anticipate tons awkwardness, and Scott doesn’t know how to handle that. It would be easier if he talked to his dad and his dad set up the call. Where his relationship with his dad stands, he’s not sure if he could even get their numbers. His mom had their number for a few years after the split, but the universe moved along, and their communication dropped off.

“I know some because I’m a quick learner,” Stiles says, puffing out his chest. Allison’s face softens when she looks at him, mouth curling, dimples deepening. The familiar swooping feeling of affection goes through Scott at the sight of her smile. “Plus, Melissa made me practice with him.”

“Supposedly, learning another language as a kid is supposed to be super good for your brain,” Scott chimes in. 

“Supposedly,” Allison agrees, eyes back on Scott. “So, this Kira.”

“She seems cool,” Scott says, with a shrug. 

“Totally friend material,” Stiles adds, eyes darting between Allison and Scott, calculating. “Maybe more, who knows. She was cute.”

“Was she?” Allison asks, looking down at her food. Scott’s stomach sours, unsure of where this conversation might be headed. He hasn’t mentally prepared for this. He didn’t think the subject of Kira would even come up before the weekend. 

“Yeah,” Scott says, unable to lie. She was gorgeous, intriguing. There was something about her that drew Scott in, made his interest catch. He wants to know more about her, wants to learn more. That doesn’t necessarily mean that he wants to _date her_ , but there’s always potential in any interaction Scott has for _more_. 

“Is that -- Would you --” Allison cuts herself off, then sighs, and rolls her eyes, looking at Stiles and then Scott, wetting her lips before she continues. “Is that something you’d think you’d want? To add another person?”

“I --” Scott stalls, trying to arrange his thoughts. He’s not opposed to it, he’s never opposed to it. Things get complicated when you add more people, the dynamic changes. He’s been with Stiles for so long that he doesn’t think anything can change _that_. 

With Allison, it’s different. While she knew that he had a boyfriend when they started dating, she hadn’t been in a polyamorous relationship before. She’s used to monogamy, what society considers normal. Being okay with Stiles is one thing, because Stiles is Stiles; being with a whole other person might change things for the worst. 

_Not_ that he’s even thinking about Kira like that. He’s genuinely interested in pursuing her friendship for friendship’s sake. While she’s interesting, and absolutely gorgeous, he doesn’t know her, at all. Of course, with Scott, the closer he gets to people, the more those lines blur. 

“That’s not something I thought about,” Scott says, shrugging. Which is the truth. “I think she’s hot, but other than that I don’t have an opinion. I invited her to the kick back this weekend to make friends, not propose she become a part of us, you know?”

Allison seems to believe him, shoulders relaxing until the tension goes out of the air completely. Scott wants to hug her, press a kiss to her hair, but Allison always needs space to process things.

“I just never thought about what would happen if you decided you wanted to date someone else,” she says, in a small voice. Almost embarrassed, Scott thinks. 

“It’s not something I would do without talking to you first,” Scott says. 

“Neither of us would,” Stiles adds, mouth full of noodles. “I mean, okay, we’re all catches, right? That’s definitely something that will come up more than once. It’s not an impossibility, but, like, communication is important.”

“That’s the golden rule,” Allison says, smiling at Stiles. Stiles beams at her, cheeks stuff with food. Scott gags, throwing sauce packets at his head until he finally starts chewing again. 

When they go to bed, Scott makes sure to put Allison in close, whisper affection into her skin. He doubts she needs it, but it steadies them both, anchors them. He falls asleep with Stiles’ arms around his middle, Allison curled into his front. 

 

 

It’s Friday morning when Scott sees Kira again, completely coincidentally. He scoped out the area for coffee shops beforehand, and now he’s trying the closest one. While he’s not completely opposed to Starbucks, there’s something about a noncorporate shop that makes him relax more. Allison seems to think it stems from his ‘soft punk’ roots, but Scott isn’t quite sure how that applies. 

Regardless, he finds himself studying a chalkboard menu for specials when someone taps his shoulder. It’s Kira, looking adorable in a soft lavender shirt that falls off her shoulder. Scott stares at the smooth skin there for a beat before he meets her eyes and smiles apologetically. 

_Good morning_ , she signs, shifting her bag so her hands are free to talk. _Come here often?_

 _First time_ , Scott responds, unable to keep the grin off his face. _Giving my roommates some alone time_. 

While they’re all involved and spend most of their time attached to each other’s hips, Scott believes in pairing off, to bond and reconnect. Sometimes, the intimacy is nice. Both Allison and Stiles have a profound hatred for change, and the move seems to have shaken them up in a way Scott doesn’t understand. So, he left them alone to talk, fuck, whatever it is that they’re going to do. 

Maybe Allison will try to get Stiles to braid her hair again. 

_Alone time?_ Kira asks, eyebrows bouncing. 

_Yes, alone time_ , he responses, unable to put any innuendo into his signing. While facial expressions and mannerisms are a _huge_ part of ASL, Scott’s still attempting to remember the right signs for words and sign at a speed that’s not clunky or halting. His gesticulations and emoting aren’t quite up to par. 

_So they’re together?_ she asks, as they move forward in line. 

Scott curls his fist, and rocks it back and forth, _yes_. 

They’re at the counter, so he asks her what she wants, insists on paying. When they move away to wait for their order, Kira’s giving him a thoughtful look. It takes everything in him not to add that they’re together with him, but their relationship isn’t something that he broaches with people immediately. 

Not that he’s uncomfortable; it’s just not something a lot of people understand. Most people are coded by society to assume that if you’re with more than one person, you’re not devoted or can’t possibly be in love. There’s multiple things that Scott doesn’t agree with when it comes to strict monogamy, but that’s not a conversation he can conduct before coffee. 

Luckily, Kira doesn’t pursue the subject, instead choosing to ask about the move in. Scott tells her about their adventures in unpacking; trying to find enough clothes to get them through the week, because they haven’t found the laundromat yet. They broke a bookshelf trying to assemble it. While Ikea furniture doesn’t require a degree in engineering to figure out, the instructions are _pictures_ , which is endlessly frustrating for someone like Stiles, who has absolutely no patience at all. It’s nice to have her focus, eyes on his hands at all times, sometimes jumping to his lips. It makes him feel warm, interesting. 

_So, what about you?_ Kira asks, once Scott has run out of things to say about moving in. They're sitting across from each other, leaning in. He’s signed a lot, hands oddly heavy from holding them up. He’s told her so much that his coffee is cooled off enough to drink without thinking about it. _Do you have anyone like your roommates have each other? Or, are you the third wheel?_

Scott drains half of his coffee before he answers.

 _In a way_ , he signs, slowly, chewing his lip so that she knows he’s thinking. He doesn’t know the sign for ‘polyamory’. _Not the third wheel, just the third person. We’re all together, we’re all dating._

Kira’s eyes widen.

 _All three of you?_ she asks, hands slow, frowning. Scott nods, smiling. _You’re all together? Dating?_

Scott nods again, fingerspells: _P - O - L - Y - A - M - O - R - Y_

Kira makes an ‘oh!’ noise in her throat, surprised. 

_I know what you mean,_ she says. _Groups of people who date each other. You love each other, right? All of you?_

Scott nods again, feels something loosen up in his chest when she says that. She nods along, eyes on him. 

_How did that happen?_ she asks, leaning forward, curious. So, Scott tells her, with clumsy hands, about Stiles and him. They grew up together, grew to love each other; there weren’t any boundaries between them, ever. Romance and sex came during the natural progression of their relationship, and they just embraced it. When they dated other people, there was always a feeling of being forced apart, unable to keep being themselves because their interactions were inappropriate from a monogamous perspective. 

Somewhere along the line, they just decided to stop. Stop breaking apart when another person came into the picture. They kept acting like themselves, kept communicating with anyone who decided to try to get close to one of them individually. It worked out a few times, but everyone felt like hook ups, or short term arrangements. At least, until Allison came along. 

That was a surprise in and of itself, to Scott at least. Stiles pretends like he knew all along that Allison wanted him, that she was attracted to him, but Scott remembers Stiles’ trepidation when Scott told him they were going to start to date seriously. Fortunately, for them all, Allison _was_ interested in Stiles as well as Scott, interested in them both _together_. 

She asked a lot of questions at first, kept it platonic with Stiles until she figured out their dynamic. Once she really got what made them tick, their subtle push-and-pull, she dived into the deep end of romance with Stiles, coaxing him into falling in love with her. 

_It was funny to watch_ , Scott signs, knowing there’s a dopey, affectionate smile on his face. _Once Stiles was on board, he fell face-first into being in love with her. It was quick and easy_. 

_It sounds like you love them very much_ , Kira signs, with that soft look of contemplation on her face. It’s true, undeniable even, so Scott nods, softly. 

_Tell me about yourself_ , Scott signs, once he’s decided that they’ve talked about him enough. Kira rolls her eyes, but starts relaying information. 

She’s a religious studies major, most of her interest lying in Eastern religion. Her mom’s Japanese, and her dad is Korean. They’re both huge on culture, and information, and Skype her regularly so they can have in depth conversations about what she’s learning in different classes. 

Kira’s more lively than she was the other day. Occasionally, Scott gets distracted by her facial expressions and her body language, forgets to look at her hands as her mouth moves and her eyes widen accordingly. 

She’s quiet, for the most part, which is weird for Scott. Both his grandparents are loud signers, words with rounded vowels accompanying their signs as they talk along. It’s how Scott picked up on ASL so easily in the first place. 

Occasionally, he has to ask what a word is, or clarify her meaning. Twice she has to slow down, and a few more times she has to fingerspell out a concept that isn’t easily translated, but they make through all right. It feels so natural to talk to her, effortless in a way that he wasn’t expecting. 

Not that he didn’t think they’d have anything in common, but people don’t usually click like they have. 

_Why don’t you have a hearing aid?_ Scott asks, after the conversation about school has dipped. He doesn’t know if it’s better to name the implant, but he doesn’t know the word for it. Coke -- conch -- If he doesn’t know what it is, he can’t spell it.

Kira’s whole body shrugs, rubbing her fingers together with a sad expression, _money_. _That, and my parents like culture. Understanding culture. My mom is deaf. Deaf households are a certain way, hearing households are different._

That doesn’t make a lot of sense to Scott, but he knows what she means about a culture in deaf communities. His grandparents were always very tactile, there’s a huge sense of inclusiveness, in teaching and learning. They always wanted Scott to learn more sign language, know more words, be able to connect. 

_Have you been practicing?_ They would ask the second he came through the door. Scott would always tell them he had been, even if he forgot, sign back to them what he could.

They talk for another cup of coffee, and then half of it gets cold because they start discussing music. Kira is partial to anything with a loud bass and nice treble, likes the way she can feel it in her feet and through her chest. It makes Scott want to take her to concert after concert; just seeing the way her face lights up when she’s talking about it, he can’t imagine what it would look like if they were actually there. 

It’s been almost three hours when they decide to duck out. 

_You should text me_ , Kira signs, looking shy for the first time since they sat down. _Just say hi sometimes_. 

_Of course_ , Scott says. There’s a warm feeling in his chest when he looks at her, smiles at her just to see her grin back at him. 

When he gets home, he Skypes his grandparents.

 

 

When Kira gets to the house on Saturday, there’s a girl with her, long dirty blonde hair and a sharp smile. Kira introduces her as _M - A - L - I - A_. 

“Not M - _ahh_ \- lee - a, it’s M - uh - _lee_ \- a. I’m the token hearing friend,” Malia says, shaking Scott’s hand enthusiastically. “Kira says you can sign.”

“Not perfectly,” Scott admits, signing along. “But I have the basics down, so I can only get better from here. Besides, I’m a huge fan of YouTube tutorials.”

“Not bad, not bad,” she says, watching his hands and smiling. “Being around Kira definitely helps. Total immersion, or whatever.”

 _Exposure_ , Kira signs. Scott can’t help grinning at the way her face pulls an over-exaggerated ‘duh’ face. Kira slips into polite conversation immediately, asking about the move-in, and how Stiles is, things that they went over at the coffee shop, but that social niceties insist they go over again. 

It doesn’t take long for to Allison come over, hovering at Scott’s shoulder. 

“Is this Kira?” she asks once their hands have stopped their exchange. Kira nods, waves, holds her hand out to shake. 

_I’ve heard a lot about you_ , she signs, Scott translates for Allison, knowing she has no idea what’s happening. Malia drifts away, towards the kitchen. Hopefully, for drinks. Scott’s feeling oddly nervous about the whole thing, trying to gauge if there’s tension. He told both Allison and Stiles about running into Kira at the coffee shop, they seemed interested. Stiles teased him about his ‘coffee date’, but neither of them seemed put out, or even at all surprised, that Scott would talk with her for three hours without realizing it. 

“Good things, I hope,” Allison says, with a laugh. 

_All good_ , Kira agrees. Malia comes up with three cups in her hands, and passes one to Kira and the other to Allison.

“Sorry, I can only carry so many drinks,” Malia says, tipping her red cup at Scott. Anytime she talks, she faces Kira slightly, making it easy for her to read her lips. Scott makes a mental note to remember to do that. 

It’s awkward for another beat before Malia starts talking, half signing with the cup in her hand. There’s so much gesticulating that Allison suggests they sit down. Once she’s arranged on the couch with Kira in the middle, the conversation flows smoothly. Malia translates quickly when she or Allison talk and talks along with Kira’s signing. 

They slip into an easy conversation, talking about upcoming classes, everything Scott went over with Kira when they were at the coffee house. Allison seems genuinely interested, body language open and engaged. Kira seems to notice, definitely not stiff in the way that she way when she first came in with Malia. 

Scott feels comfortable enough leaving them to talk so he can slip around to other people and jump into their conversations. 

No matter where Scott ends up around the apartment, no matter who he talks to, he can hear Allison’s voice, Malia’s responses. He has one ear on them at all times. It’s hard to make out the exact words, but laughter drifts over to him every so often, bursts of amusement. It makes Scott want to ditch the socialization and go over to talk to them, ignore everyone else. 

Instead, he drifts into the kitchen and finds Stiles in a very loud conversation about Quentin Tarantino’s interconnecting movies with Boyd. Stiles pulls him into a hard kiss, grinning when they pull apart. 

“It looks like the girls are getting along,” he says, voice low like they’re conspirators. Scott rolls his eyes, but there’s nothing to be done about the smile creeping across his face. It’s nice that they seem to have clicked, that Allison would voluntarily ignore a whole apartment of established friendships for someone she doesn’t know. 

“I have no idea what they’re talking about, but at least they’re talking, right?”

“It probably helps that Malia is translating, right?” Stiles asks, eyes on the couch where the girls are sitting. “I mean, less awkward.”

“Sure,” Scott says, shrugging, he’s not sure if that’s actually a factor. There’s pen and paper, texting, there’s limitless ways to communicate without _actually talking_. Allison throws her head back and laughs beautifully. 

“Do you think you’ll ever get sick of looking at her?” Stiles asks, fond smile on his lips. 

“Are you being sappy about our girlfriend?” Scott asks, leaning into Stiles more. Stiles doesn’t answer, just drags his nose over Scott’s jaw, pressing a kiss there. 

“I might be, you can’t prove it,” he says, peppering more kisses on Scott’s face. 

“What do you think,” Scott asks, quietly, after he’s entertained Stiles’ bid for more and more kisses, over a dozen, at least. “About Kira.”

“I think she’s cute,” Stiles says, with a shrug. “You know how I am about new people.”

“Meaning you don’t care?” Scott asks, with a laugh. Trying to get Stiles to open up to new people is nearly impossible. It takes time, trust building, a good sense of humor. 

“I care because you care,” Stiles says, seriously. “I’m just cautious.”

“What could you possibly be cautious about with _Kira_?” Scott asks, gesturing at where she’s softly smiling in Allison’s direction, hand nudging her arm to get her attention. Instead of drawing away, Kira’s hand lingers. Allison doesn’t seem to mind.

“Hey, do you think I want to see your heart broken?” Stiles asks, affronted. “See people use you just for your hot bod? That hot bod is mine. And Allison’s. But it was mine first.”

“Oh my god,” Scott says, nuzzling in close, biting Stiles’ jawline. Stiles smirks and tips his head back as Scott runs his hands up his sides, clings to him, basically. “I get it, possessive much?”

“Nah, I know that you know that you’re mine,” Stiles says. “I can share.”

“Is that something you’d want?” Scott asks, jerking his chin towards where Allison is laughing with Malia and Kira. There’s something magnetic about them both, something that draws Scott in. The urge to go over to them is more and more overwhelming. He wants to know what’s making them laughing, wants to know what they’re bonding over. 

“She seems nice,” Stiles says. “I like her. Allison seems to like her. You should talk to her, but you have my go-ahead.”

Scott nods gratefully. He’s not sure what he wants out of a relationship with Kira, but he knows that he wants something, curious to see where it would lead him. She’s beautiful and interesting, and they come together a way that he doesn’t experience too often. The other two times he’s felt this way have ended up being a couple of the best relationships of his life, so he can’t deny that there’s _something_ there. Something between them that has the potential to be _so much more_. 

“Does Kira even _like_ _you_?” Stiles asks, breaking through Scott’s thoughts. 

“Good question.”

 

 

There’s loud giggling from the apartment, and Scott manages to get in the front door without either Stiles or Allison that he’s there. He hovers just in the doorway, not wanting to step into view. He likes it when he can just watch them, when they don’t know he’s there. It’s weird, maybe, but they have a unique dynamic, and Scott loves to see how they are without him. 

“We need to learn stuff that actually makes sense, not just curse words,” Stiles chastises, but he sounds amused, chuckles escaping him. 

“Okay, but the one for 'bullshit' is _hilarious_ ,” Allison giggles. “The little horns, and the wiggly fingers.”

“You don’t even know if those are _right_.”

“They need to be approved by something?”

“Or widely known,” Stiles says, taking a deep breath. “Seriously, though. ‘How are you’, ‘how are classes?’”

“We’re not going to be able to understand anything she says back, that’s the problem,” Allison says, sobering up. “She can read lips, but we just can’t understand her without Scott or Malia there.”

“There’s always pen and paper.”

“That takes so _long_ ,” it sounds like Allison is pouting. Scott’s stomach swoops in excitement as he moves around the corner. Allison’s sitting on one of the dining room chairs with the tablet on her lap, while Stiles stands behind her. His long fingers are combing through her hair, clumsily braiding it -- or, attempting to. It looks like mostly twisting, but Stiles’ tongue is poking out in concentration. 

Allison’s face mirrors Stiles’, pink tip of her tongue trapped between her lips as her hands move slowly to copy the movement.

“That’s wrong,” Stiles says, tip toeing to see what her hands are doing. “Middle finger extended, not your first. Oh my god, is this going to be like the ‘r’ and ‘x’ thing.”

“Okay, you know that it’s confusing,” she huffs, pushing his forehead back. He goes easily, smiling softly at the back of her head. Instead of going back to braiding her hair, his long fingers scratch against her scalp. “The ‘x’ looks like an ‘r’, and the ‘r’ looks like an ‘x’. _Why_ do that? _Why_?”

“To confuse us poor souls,” Stiles says as he uses her hair to tilt her head back, leaning over to kiss her gently before deepening it with a dirty flick of his tongue. “Nevermind the ‘x’ and the ‘r’, babe, I’ve got the ‘d’ for you right here.”

“Does that actually ever work?” Scott asks, stepping all the way into the living room from where he’s been lurking in the doorway. At this rate, they would never have noticed him standing there, just fucked on the chair before even realizing they weren’t alone. 

“Sometimes,” Allison admits, with an easy shrug. “We’re learning sign language.”

“It looks like, _you’re_ learning sign language, and Stiles is failing, yet again, to learn how to braid your hair,” Scott says. He kisses Stiles in greeting before he hip-bumps him to the side and takes over. Methodically, he combs Allison’s hair out with his fingers before starting on a single french braid from the top of her head. 

“It’s true,” Allison says, leaning her head back for a kiss when he’s done. It’s warm, and feels like coming home. Scott can’t help grinning at her when they pull back. “Not everyone can have your kick ass braiding skills.”

“Blame my mother.” Family bonding time was watching movies while Scott braided his mom’s hair because she could never teach herself no matter how hard she tried. Then, carpel tunnel from constantly entering notes into the computer at work, and it was up to Scott to do her hair most mornings. Sensible, but out of the way. 

“I thank your mother on a daily basis,” she says. “Actually, she says you need to return her texts. I told her you were distracted by a pretty face.”

“To which she responded, ‘when is he not?’,” Stiles says, slinging an arm around Scott’s shoulders, pressing them together. 

“You all know me so well,” Scott laughs before schooling his face into a curious expression. “So, why are you learning sign language in the dining room?” 

“We like Kira,” Stiles says, pressing a kiss to Scott’s temple. “We want to be her friends.”

“Or more,” Allison says, eyes on Scott. The idea makes Scott’s heart jump in his throat. 

“Really?” Scott asks. Not that he doesn’t believe them, he just wants confirmation, verbal confirmation that they’re going to -- What? _Woo_ Kira? 

“Yeah,” she says, shrugging. “I mean, being friends comes first, right? It always does.”

“Establish communication,” Stiles adds, with an over exaggerated nod. 

_At least a little communication_ , he adds in ASL. It’s faster than it was before, more confident. That warm feeling moves through Scott again, the one he recognizes as happy, content. 

“Hey, no ASL in the house unless it’s half speed,” Allison says, smacking Stiles in the arm playfully. 

_Total immersion!_ Stiles signs at her, flinging his hands out, making Scott holler with laughter. 

 

 

Allison kicks them out of the apartment on Tuesday, saying that they need to go on a date. The only problem with that is that they don’t really date each other. Their whole _lives_ revolve around each other. If they want to see a movie, they see a movie. If they decide to be lazy, they’re lazy. They cook together, eat together, take showers together. Either they have no dates at all, or their life is one continual date. Whichever it is, it makes figuring out to do for _dates_ difficult, especially when it’s spur-of-the-moment. 

They’ve seen all the movies they’ve wanted to see, even the old ones at the dollar theater. There’s nothing happening on a Tuesday. Stiles vetos bowling, because he only thinks it’s fun when it’s cosmic bowling. Scott can’t stand the idea of going to the mall to find something to do. So, they end up getting lunch at Subway. 

Stiles is illustrating just how large his sandwich is going to be with his hands and mouth, and Scott isn’t trying to get worked up or anything, but the way Stiles eats and the way he gives oral are _incredibly similar_. 

Luckily, Stiles stops mid-thrust, invisible sandwich forgotten, mouth slipping into a sly smile.

 _Look who it is_ , he signs. Scott turns and sees Kira behind him, looking hesitant. He waves at her enthusiastically, feeling the familiar, pleasant fuzzy feeling in his gut that means he’s either really excited about her friendship or he’s getting a crush. Either way, it’s a nice feeling, and he embraces it. 

_Fancy meeting you here_ , Scott signs, smiling. Once is an incident, twice is a coincidence. They texted through the day yesterday, talking about getting materials for school, but Scott didn’t expect to see her so soon. It’s definitely welcome.

 _Eat with us?_ Stiles asks, gesturing to the sandwiches. 

“Tell her I’ll buy,” Stiles says, nudging Scott with his elbow. “I don’t know that one.” 

It’s probably pointless, because her eyes were on his lips when he was talking, but Scott relays it anyway, and Kira nods along. 

_Can’t say no to free food,_ she signs, shrugging and stepping closer so that she’s more in their personal space. Stiles orders first, making a monster of a sandwich that Scott sincerely doubts he actually _will_ get his mouth around. Scott orders next, then offers to order for Kira, but she’s already handing the person behind the counter a piece of paper with her order on it. 

_Already prepared_ , he says, nodding along. 

_I’ve been deaf my whole life,_ she signs, with a thoughtful expression _. I can handle it_. 

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, snorting in amusement. “She told you.”

“Shut your face,” Scott grumbles, but he’s laughing too. Not that he doubts her capabilities, but he’s not opposed to helping, or translating. When he tells her as much, she shrugs. 

_Thank you_ , _sometimes I’ll take you up on that_.

Once they pay, they slide into a booth. Stiles sits next to Scott, knocking their knees together and practically elbowing Scott in his efforts to devour his sandwich in as many bites possible. 

“Slow down cowboy,” Scott says, when a stray piece of lettuce flies at him. “This isn’t proper etiquette for a date.”

“Date-shamate,” Stiles says, grinning at Scott with a mouth full of meat and bread. “You’ve seen me at my worst.”

Scott’s about to retort, but Kira taps his elbow, looking frantic. 

_Am I interrupting a date?_ she asks, looking completely appalled by the idea.

 _Technically_ , Stiles signs, shrugging.

 _No_ , Scott signs, first two fingers coming down on his thumb in a snapping gesture. _Don’t listen to him. We don’t mind you here._

 _But it’s a date?_ she asks, still frowning, upset. _I didn’t mean to intrude_.

 _It’s a date with you, too_ , Stiles says, eyebrows popping up. _You’re here with us. I bought you food_. 

Kira’s eye widen even further at that, cheeks coloring red. She stares at Stiles for awhile longer, then drags her gaze to Scott, meeting his eyes. 

_That’s ridiculous_ , she signs, huffing. 

_You wouldn’t date us?_ Scott asks, playing along with Stiles. Scott wants to know if there’s at least a possibility, if Kira would give them the chance. 

Kira looks at both of them thoughtfully, strokes her chin for dramatic effect. Stiles squirms next to Scott, face threatening to break out into a grin. 

_You are both handsome_ , she signs, after a few seconds, _but Stiles thinks that Jason Todd is the best Robin. I don’t know if I could date him_.

“How does she know that Jason is your favorite Robin?” Scott asks, turning to Stiles. He’s too busy being affronted to remember that Kira needs to read his lips. She taps his elbow, and gestures at his face. Sheepishly, he faces out more, so she can read his lips. 

“We’re texting,” Stiles says, signing along with a smirk on his lips. “You and Allison have her number, I felt left out.”

 _You didn’t tell him you were talking to me?_ Kira asks, hands flinging out with emphasis. Her movements look irritated, unsure. 

_It’s not bad_ , Scott signs, quick to reassure her. _I didn’t know, but it’s okay. He didn’t go behind my back_. _We want to be your friend, all of us._

That seems to settle her. She relaxes back into her seat, eyes darting between them again. 

_Date?_ she asks. Scott and Stiles look at each other, and grin. 

_Date_ , they both sign, and Scott gets to hear Kira’s beautiful laugh again, amused. 

 

 

Third time's a pattern, Scott thinks as he opens the door to the apartment and hears laughter. When he gets in the apartment all the way, Allison’s sitting in a chair in the middle of the living room, and Kira’s standing behind her, braiding her hair. Scott waves his hand up and down to get Kira’s attention. When she looks up, her eyes are bright and amused, and Scott feels that familiar punch-in-the-gut that he’s been getting around her lately. 

_She has everyone do this_ , Scott says, _That’s how she tests your worth, by making you braid her hair_. 

Kira shrugs with her whole body, and sticks her tongue out at Scott.

“She doesn’t seem to mind,” Allison says. Kira isn’t look at Scott, eyes back on Allison’s hair, so Scott doesn’t bother signing. She braided both sides, like a crown, hands working to braid those two into one braid at the base. 

“I feel replaced,” Scott says, morosely. “I am no longer champion braider of the house.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Allison says with a huff, whole body sighing petulantly. Kira makes a noise of protest, that sounds like ‘ _don’t_ ’. Allison settles, looking chastised. Scott doesn’t hesitate to laugh at her. 

“How goes the communication?” Scott asks, perfectly aware that he sounds exactly like Stiles in that moment. He can’t actually think of a better way to phrase the question, so he rolls with it. 

“Not too bad,” Allison says. “I keep forgetting to face her, or mixing up my signs, but she corrects me. We’ve been texting when things get frustrating. It’s not hard, at all.”

“I’m glad,” Scott says, then waves to get Kira’s attention again. When she looks up, he sweeps his hands upwards in front of his chest, smiling _, happy_. 

“Me too,” Kira says, vowels rounded, but understandable. It’s a huge indicator of Kira’s comfort level that she talks around them now. Scott asked her about being quiet, curious to know if talking along was taught, or if it was a personal preference. Kira shrugged, told him she was taught, but she’s self conscious about her voice and pronunciation, so she doesn’t do it very much. Scott grins at her, relieved and excited. 

When Stiles gets home, Kira’s working on a different hair style while Scott and Allison practice signing. It’s mostly memorization, learning the different signs, knowing how to apply them. Whenever Scott messes up, Kira shakes her head for a long time and gestures to the tablet with her chin, basically telling him to Google it. 

“Kira staying for dinner?” Stiles asks, toeing off his shoes by the door. He presses a kiss to Scott’s mouth and Allison’s head, before leaning up and -- He stops short of kissing Kira. Both of them blink at each other with wide eyes, mouths slack. 

“I am so sorry,” Stiles says, tilting away, rubbing his fist on his chest over and over and over, _sorry_. “That was terrible, I’m so horrible.”

 _Autopilot_ , he signs, backing away. _Scott, Allison._

“Are you trying to say kissing Kira is automatic?” Allison asks. It sounds like she’s trying not to laugh at him. Kira still hasn’t reacted, face frozen in surprise, hands still in Allison’s hair. 

“I’m trying to say that I’m cooking dinner,” Stiles says, and then he’s in the kitchen, grabbing things out of the fridge and the cupboards, slamming around. Scott can tell he’s embarrassed, really embarrassed. “I want to know if I’m making dinner for 3 or 4.”

 _Are you staying?_ Scott asks, hand waving to get Kira’s attention again. She blinks at him, owlish, before nodding, slowly. 

“Dinner for 4,” Scott says, hopping up and padding into the kitchen. He grabs Stiles at his shoulder and waist, stills him. Stiles is red, adam’s apple jumping in his throat when he swallows sharply. Scott runs a hand up his throat and steers him into a chaste kiss, hoping to calm him down. “Do you need help?” 

“To make up for my embarrassment, you can chop onions,” Stiles says, sighing into Scott’s mouth. That was monumentally embarrassing, so Scott agrees, even though he cries every single time. 

Scott chops the peppers and onions while Stiles trims the steak, then everything goes into the cast iron pan. Scott’s pretty sure Stiles likes fajitas just because they’re easy to cook and always taste good as long as he doesn’t leave the steak on for too long. 

Dinner is a production of talking and signing, trying to get each other’s attention while they’re eating. When Allison gets tired of listening to Stiles relay his day and attempt to sign along, she draws Kira’s attention away to talk about what history classes she’s taking when the semester starts up. 

Stiles keeps signing, even though Kira isn’t paying attention. Either he wants the practice, he’s stuck on autopilot, or he’s stubbornly decided to become fluent as soon as possible, and knows that constantly signing while he talks is the way to do it. 

When they’re done, they pile on the couch to watch a movie. Stiles wedges himself into the corner and Allison tucks up against him, making room for Kira to sit. Scott settles next to her, slinging his arm around the back of the couch casually. She’s warm, pressed up against his side, and he relaxes into the cushions, eyes on the screen as Netflix starts up. 

The captions were easy to get used to. Summers of marathoning subtitled anime made Scott accustomed to the words at the bottom of the screen. Kira watches everything with rapt attention, mouth moving along as she reads. It’s second nature to put his arm over her shoulder, pull her in closer. 

There’s a warm feeling sitting heavy in Scott’s chest as he looks over them, sneaking glances. They look happy, content even. Kira fits perfectly with them, slipping in with an ease that Scott would have never expected from a fourth person. 

_Four_ people. That in and of itself still blows his mind. The fact that there could be two people he loves in equal measure and wants to spend all his time with used to blow Scott’s mind, but with Kira there, he’s pretty sure with time it could be three. It doesn’t feel like an exhaustion of his resources, either. He just feels full of affection, willing to give and give, knowing it will all be reciprocated. 

Over the course of the movie, Allison switches positions and lays against Kira, head leaning on her arm. Her head is just in range for Scott to play with her hair absently. Eventually, Stiles feels left out and curls up against Allison’s side, so by the middle of the movie, they’ve all fallen like dominos against his side. 

Everything is warm and comfortable, and Scott drifts off. 

When he wakes up, Kira’s stirring under his arm. He’s too warm from all the body heat, neck cramped from sleeping sitting up. Stiles jolts upright when Allison digs her elbow in his side so that he’s not sprawled across her. They all blink at each other, frowning at the Netflix suggestion screen.

Kira’s the first to paw at her phone, screen lighting up to let them know that it’s far too early in the morning, after midnight. They should all be in a _real_ bed. Kira makes a disappointed face, stretching her shoulders out. Scott hears them pop as she moves, then looks at Allison and Stiles, raising his eyebrow significantly. 

Allison is the one to tap Kira on the shoulder, smile at her softly, before gesturing with a ‘y’ handshape, palm down, _stay_. 

Kira makes an ‘oh’ noise in her throat, looking between the three of them quickly. 

_Stay_ , Stiles repeats, nodding emphatically. Kira turns her head, and meets Scott’s eyes. He’s already nodding in agreement. 

“Stay,” he says, as her eyes dip down to his mouth. 

She bites her lip and squeezes her eyes shut, before gesturing with her fist, palm down, _yes_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> I'm on Tumblr, [here!](http://queerlyalex.tumblr.com/)


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